


Wildest Dreams

by oflights



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Superstition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/pseuds/oflights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the new things going on this season, Sidney Crosby wearing panties before and after a game is not something Geno could’ve anticipated. And being <i>interested </i>in Sidney Crosby wearing panties before and after a game is not something he could’ve prepared himself for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> So this started out as a result of getting a bunch of prompts from Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams on Tumblr, and then obviously it got bigger than that. It's really just exactly what it sounds like, a bit cracky, self-indulgent (the bonus porn at the end is proof), and fun to write, and I hope you like it! Thanks to Bridget for betaing. 
> 
> Quick warning at the end, just in case.

When everything else is different, when there are enough changes to make his head spin, Geno finds it somewhat comforting that he can always find Sidney on a game day.

He thinks that’s why he wanders into the kitchen around five the day of their first game, poking around for a snack, but really watching Sidney fuss over his sandwich: spreading the peanut butter carefully over his slice of bread with his tongue poking out between his teeth. Then he looks around for the jelly and lets out a huff when he finds it missing, and Geno laughs a little, startling Sidney into looking back at him.

“What?” Sidney snaps, though he doesn’t manage as much annoyance as he probably wants to. He’s pink-cheeked and happy as he ever is at the start of a new season, excited to _start_ , and Geno kind of likes to bask in that excitement for a little while, letting it fill his stomach with warmth. 

“Look up,” Geno says, crunching on an apple he’d snagged and raising his eyebrows up at the cabinet above Sidney. 

Sidney turns around and narrows his eyes up at where Geno’s looking, then sighs noisily when he sees the jelly all the way up on top of one of the cabinets. When Geno came into the kitchen, Duper and Flower were walking out, so he’s assuming it was a two-man job to chuck it up there while Sidney was distracted.

“Fuck’s sake,” Sidney says, putting his hands on his hips. Geno laughs again and moves in closer, leaning with his hip against the counter. “Flower was showing me pictures of Estelle. He _used_ his daughter. This is a new low.”

“Is high, though,” Geno says, laughing at the narrow-eyed, cranky look Sidney gives him. 

“You shut up. I bet you were in on it.”

“No, not in. I’m even help find! Want me to get?” It’ll be a reach even for him—Duper must have tossed it, there’s no way he could’ve reached up there without a stepstool—and there’s no way Sidney can grab it.

But he doesn’t expect Sidney to say anything else but “No, I got it.” 

Geno crunches on more of his apple, grinning as he watches Sidney go up on his toes and reach with the tips of his fingers. They can barely graze the top of the cabinet and don’t come close to the jar of jelly. 

“You sure?”

“I _got_ it,” Sidney says. He reaches farther, grunting, and Geno keeps watching him, eyes doing a sweep up his body as his bare heels rise up out of the open backs of his Crocs, his calf muscles straining in his sweats. This is how he notices when Sidney’s t-shirt rides up, revealing a strip of summer gold skin at his waist, and he’s about to chuckle at the whole production when the waistband of Sidney’s sweats slips down, just a little. 

Geno drops the apple with a low, muttered curse. Sidney turns to frown at him, settling back down on his feet and bringing the hem of his t-shirt down with him, but he doesn’t do it fast enough to convince Geno he hadn’t seen an inch of bright red lace peeking out of the top of the sweats. “What?” Sidney says again, giving Geno an odd look, and Geno has to blink a few times before he can clear his head enough to look at Sidney’s face instead of the spot on his hip where he’d seen the lace.

“Sorry,” Geno says eventually, clearing his throat. “I drop. Let me get jelly, Sid.”

Sidney has to try hopping to reach a few times first, and there are repeated flashes of the—panties, Geno thinks. They have to be panties, there’s no other explanation, even if an explanation that involves Sidney wearing panties is completely absurd to Geno. There’s no denying what he sees, though, and Geno keeps blinking, keeps watching, until he’s sure he’s going insane and realizes that mere hours before the first game of the season is a pretty bad time to go insane.

When Sidney is pulling over a stool to climb up on, Geno takes matters into his own hands, goes up on his toes, and swipes the jelly off the cabinet. Sidney says, “Geno! I almost had it!” but he’s smiling as Geno bobbles the jar in his hands, making like he’s going to drop it, then presents it to him.

“Take too long. Game start and you in here try reach jelly, no good. Scratched because jelly.” Geno’s heart is beating pretty fast, and it’s almost surreal that everything he’s saying is normal, that Sidney looks totally normal too, clutching his jelly like a prize and giving Geno a pleased, fond smile. 

He doesn’t understand how Sidney can look that normal while he’s wearing _panties_ , because there is nothing normal about that.

“Good point,” Sidney says, abandoning the stool to go back to work on his sandwich, carefully unscrewing the jar. “That would be a terrible reason to get scratched, thanks for that.”

“Maybe should let you get scratched,” Geno says, calming down, leaning back against the counter. He tries to relax and look at Sidney’s bowed head, but his eyes keep slipping down to his hips. “Then I’m play center.”

Sidney lets out a loud, bright laugh, elbowing Geno in one quick motion. Geno relishes the sound, soaking it up—sometimes the summer is long enough that he can forget how good it sounds, how warm he feels when he hears it—and tries to focus on that instead of—whatever the hell is going on underneath Sidney’s sweatpants. Geno has spent years managing to not think about what goes on in his teammates’ pants; he’d like to continue that trend.

“Eat,” he tells Sidney. “Good sandwich, means hockey back.” Geno claps his hand against Sidney’s elbow and pushes off the counter, leaving him to it. He hears Sidney make a happy noise of affirmation and smiles. 

When he ducks to scoop up the apple he’d dropped and toss it away, though, Geno finds himself watching the slight wiggle of Sidney’s hips as he moves in front of the counter, staring at the hem of his shirt. He knocks into the doorway and Paulie, moving down the hall, laughs openly at him.

“Okay, G?” Paulie asks, grinning at him. Geno says yes but he doesn’t know if he means it.

 

 

Geno can’t stop thinking about it after that. 

He feels ridiculous, because there’s so much more to think about: the first game, the new system, playing in a new position, getting back into game shape. It feels like there are two versions of his brain, one that’s dialed in and ready and eager to get up to speed with hockey, and then another one that can’t stop thinking about Sidney wearing women’s underwear. 

He’s wondering if it’s the novelty of it, the fact that he’s 28 years old and such a thought has never crossed his mind. It’s pretty crazy to have completely new thoughts at his age, Geno thinks. That has to be why he’s obsessing. 

Because he is definitely obsessing. After the game, Geno isn’t purely happy with himself, but he’s certainly happy with the win. He’s _thrilled_ for Duper, feeding off the hum of his excitement and adrenaline, and that could almost be enough to make him forget about the panties. Almost. 

Geno doesn’t forget, though. Instead he finds himself watching Sidney change in the room, something he’s seen hundreds of times but never actually _watched_ before. It’s a strange experience in and of itself because nobody is self-conscious, nobody even notices Geno watching—he just gets to watch Sidney get naked and it’s no big deal because they’re naked together all the time.

So he watches Sidney get naked, not really interested in the naked part, but rather what comes off him to get him naked. He doesn’t see the panties. Sidney takes off his horrible jock, peels off his Under Armour, drops a pair of normal, everyday black boxer-briefs at his feet, and then he’s naked. No lace, nothing red, no hints that any panties had ever even touched him, and Geno wants to flick himself in the forehead for feeling weirdly disappointed.

He had to have imagined them before, Geno decides. There’s no other explanation. Geno shakes his head and stops pushing his luck with the watching, though of course it’s easier when Sidney wanders into the showers while chatting with Brandon.

Geno’s resolved himself to put it behind him, chalking it up to his imagination (not that he’s _ever_ imagined something like that before, and he’s not going to poke at that too much, because then he’d have to think about why he was disappointed) and getting undressed himself. He changes into shorts and a t-shirt and heads for the gym, thinking about how long shifts in the third period were starting to feel like skating through quicksand. He decides he’s going to exorcise his ridiculous and frankly worrying imagination on the bike, and he’s happy when a few guys join him because they can distract him.

He finds himself looking again, though, when Sidney stops in to say goodnight, dressed in his game day suit with the jacket slung over his arm, hair wet from his shower and smile radiant from the awesome game he’d played. Geno pulls himself out of a stretch and tells him, “Next time, I let you be jelly scratch,” and Sidney’s laugh echoes as he turns and leaves.

Geno watches him go, watching—he looks at his ass, his pants tight across it, curving out from under his belt. He decides he needs more time on the bike, maybe, because he swears that the lines he can see under the pants are nothing like boxer-briefs. They’re visible across the middle of Sidney’s ass, like whatever underwear he’s wearing doesn’t quite fit and has ridden up, and—Geno flops back onto the mat so hard that Siller starts and looks over at him, concerned.

“All right?” he calls, and Geno nods slowly, staring up at the ceiling. He thinks it’s probably not all right that he’s contemplating the possibility of his teammate’s panty lines, or that that possibility apparently does—something for him. 

He’s thinking about it again, obsessing, and even if it’s just his imagination, he’s interested in the concept. Of all the new things going on this season, Sidney Crosby wearing panties before and after a game is not something Geno could’ve anticipated. And being _interested_ in Sidney Crosby wearing panties before and after a game is not something he could’ve prepared himself for.

“Fine,” Geno says, when Siller keeps looking at him. He gets up and starts back for the bike, determined. He can’t control his imagination, or what Sidney wears under his clothes. He can control this, though. He’ll focus on this version of his brain for now, and consider getting help for the other version some other time.

 

 

Geno just does a little bit of investigating over the next few days.

“Anything different with Sid?” he asks Tanger while they’re waiting for a review session to start up. He’s whispering, because the new coach still makes him feel like he’s in school sometimes, especially when they’re all crowded into seats like this and attentively turned to the front of the room. Sidney, Olli, and Goc all have notepads in their laps. 

Tanger gives him a funny look, probably because Geno had spent a good five minutes before this just staring into space, sipping tea, and contemplating panty lines again. He’d checked this morning when Sidney arrived and saw no such lines, and he’s in his stretchiest yoga pants, so they would show. Then he’d spent the rest of the morning internally groaning at himself for checking. 

“What do you mean, different?” Tanger asks lowly, his head ducked in towards Geno’s. They’re waiting on a few stragglers and one of the assistants, but Geno thinks Tanger also has the sense that they shouldn’t be goofing off or messing with each other right now. They’d blown their last game against Dallas in pretty spectacular fashion and there’s a sense of purpose in this review session. Johnston has notecards. Geno’s waiting for him to break out the laser pointer. 

“I mean what I say, different. Like changes you notice, you know?”

“Sidney doesn’t like changes,” Tanger says with no small amount of fondness in his voice. He frowns, though, lowering his voice. “Why? You notice something?”

Yes, Geno thinks. He’d noticed. He’d noticed a glimpse of more red lace after the Leafs game, when Sidney bent to pull his iPad out of his bag on the plane home, blocking the aisle. “Move,” Geno had said, grabbing Sidney’s hips, but he’d pulled his hands away in a split second when he saw the red lace, feeling weirdly guilty and hot. When he got to his seat, he chugged a bottle of water and closed his eyes. 

“No,” Geno says. “He is the same for me. Just see if same for you.” He feels hot again and twitches with the urge to pull his collar away from his neck and push up his sleeves, all because he’d been thinking about the panties again. He feels like a parody of himself. 

Tanger squints at him, suspicious, and Geno wonders if he was the wrong person to ask. He’d been strategizing, though. There’s no way someone like Duper or Flower could know Sidney had taken to wearing women’s underwear and keep their mouths shut about it, so asking them would be pointless. If they knew, he would know it already.

The new guys wouldn’t talk about Sidney like that, or at least they shouldn’t; if they did, Geno would have different words for them, probably. Same for the younger guys, though he suspects Beau might be one to talk to about this. He doesn’t ever want to discuss any kind of underwear with Adams, Scuds keeps all team secrets steadfastly by muttering that he’s too old for this shit and staying out of them, and Paulie, Kuni and Brandon are next on his list.

Maybe Tanger shouldn’t have been the first, but there’s not much he misses about Sidney. Geno had been counting on that. The possibility that Geno’s the only one who actually _knows_ that Sidney wears panties now is a little terrifying, almost as terrifying as how he’s been reacting to it.

His investigation happens in starts and stops, because they keep having lengthy breaks between games and practices aren’t the best time to be stealthily nosy about his teammates. It’s hard to have a conversation in the room without five other people jumping into it. At the same time, having breaks between games is nice because it’s a break from panty sightings, enough for Geno to figure out that it’s definitely a game day thing. 

Geno tries not to think about it any further than that, especially once he’s able to ascertain that he _is_ the only one who knows, or at least the only one willing to talk about it. He fails miserably even during the breaks, unable to coax his mind away from the images that won’t be chased by anything.

All of this is enough that by the next game day, Geno has to admit that he’s apparently into the idea of Sidney wearing panties. Considering he’s never before been particularly into either of these concepts, Sidney or panties, he’s freaking out a little.

He’s also checking steadfastly for the return of the panties, despite himself. He’s wondering if whatever it is—a superstition, a routine, a fucking mind game meant to psyche Geno out until he’s willing to let Sidney horde all the wingers—may have been dashed by the Dallas loss. 

But after they beat the Isles, the panties are back, though they are black this time. Geno knows because he’s discovered how Sidney’s changing in and out of them without everybody seeing—he watches Sidney pull up his pants in the dressing room. Nestled in the light gray lining on the inside of the pants are the panties, and Sidney steps into them at the same time, pulls them up, tucks his shirt in. Geno only knows because he stares for so long that Kuni shoves him, giving him a funny look.

“Being weird again, Geno,” Kuni says. The “again” implies that he’s noticed Geno has been weird for a little while now and hasn’t said anything in true Kuni fashion. Geno dearly wishes they had a team full of Kunis. 

“Yes,” Geno says solemnly, sighing heavily. There’s no sense denying it. Watching your teammate get dressed that closely is weird, and Kuni hasn’t even realized the extent of it. 

“Take a picture next time,” Sidney chirps cheerfully enough, heading over to them with his shoes in his hands. “Lasts longer.”

“Not worth picture,” Geno tells him instinctually, and he’s horrified to feel himself blushing through it anyway. Sidney tilts his head to the side, his smile wavering a bit.

“I’d like to think we’ve known each other long enough that there’s no need for dick comparisons, but if that’s what you’re looking for here—”

“Oh please,” Geno says, scoffing. It makes him feel better, though there is still that bit of panic. He kind of _wishes_ this were a dick comparison thing; that’s way less weird in locker room culture than what is actually going on. “I know I’m win that, I’m win from day one. No contest.” 

Sidney narrows his eyes a little. “Hey, listen, don’t say no contest, it’s not _that_ wide—ah, long?—a margin—”

“Oh my God,” Kuni says, and he leans over with his hands on his ears and looks over at Olli, listening to them and grinning into his collar. “Olli, please don’t listen to this. This is a low point for our franchise.”

“Sid’s a grower,” Duper calls over, of _course_ , and anyone who hears him loses it laughing even if they don’t understand the context. Sid himself is pink with laughter, his eyes crinkled and his head tossed back. Geno notices because he’s staring again, up at his face now, where there are no panties located, and yet it’s still an appealing face. Maybe it’s always been an appealing face. Maybe Geno’s had this freakout coming for a while.

Kuni nudges him again, throwing him wide, alarmed eyes, and thankfully Sidney’s too busy going back at Duper to notice. “You need to get a beer, I think,” Kuni says softly. Geno drops his forehead into his hands and sighs again.

“Yes,” he says once more, just as solemnly. But getting a beer means going out with Sidney too, Sidney in panties. And Geno can’t stop being a creep about it. He can’t stop watching Sidney talk to random strangers at the bar about baseball, while wearing panties. He can’t stop watching him drink a beer, give Tanger a shove, talk to Geno about how nice his goal was, all while wearing panties.

“That goal all Horny,” Geno tells Sidney, and next to him Kuni chokes on his drink.

Geno goes home and jerks off thinking about Sidney doing other stuff in panties like the sad creep he is now. After, he takes a shower to try and wash some of the creepiness off, and then lies in bed trying to think about Sidney’s horrible cup instead. It doesn’t work. When he closes his eyes, visions of Sidney wearing nothing but the panties roll across the backs of his eyelids—Sidney stretched out across his bed, legs spread, being a grower in red or black lace. He wonders if Sidney has other colors. He wonders if he would like some. 

It’s stupid to think about any of that, and he tries not _looking_ so much, trying not to pay attention to the way Sidney does _everything_ while wearing panties. But nothing can chase the knowledge, and apparently Geno’s imagination doesn’t need confirmation anymore. It’s running wild even without it. 

“Seriously, what,” Kuni asks him, just the two of them, lagging behind a group heading for Two-Touch. Sidney’s up ahead, panty lines visible in his stretchy pants tucked into his socks, and part of Geno wants to point to them, wants to say, “Yes, I’m weird, but look at Sid! Sid is weirder!” except he doesn’t think it’s weirder to wear panties than it is to creep on your teammate wearing them. And this might not even be the weirdest thing Sidney does in the course of a game day.

“Hard to explain,” Geno says evasively, shrugging a little. “Is my problem, no one else.”

Kuni looks thoughtful, and then he leans in very, very close. He keeps his face looking open and fatherly and concerned. “Is it—is this a gay crisis? Because you know that’s totally okay, it’s okay to be confused. It’s never too late to have, uh, questions.”

Geno’s first instinct is to vehemently deny it, because it’s not so much the gay part of all this that’s throwing him for a loop. He’s had some pretty gay thoughts before. He’s never had thoughts about guys in panties, about teammates in panties, and that’s what keeps giving him pause. 

Kuni had definitely hit on something, though. “Yes,” Geno says slowly. “I’m very confused. Have—weird feelings.” He has weird feelings in his dick but he’s not going to get into all that before Two-Touch.

Kuni nods, stroking his chin. “I see. Feelings about Sid?” Geno just shrugs, and Kuni nods again. “You can talk about it, Geno. You’re not the first and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

“What?” Geno says, pretty loud. Sidney looks back over his shoulder, giving them a questioning look, and Geno nods and smiles and then shoves Kuni into an equipment closet as soon as Sidney turns around again. “ _What_? Who else have feelings?”

“I’m not going to break anyone’s confidence,” Kuni says calmly, putting his hands out in front of him. When Geno blinks at him, Kuni clarifies, “I mean, I’m not gonna tell secrets, it’s not my—”

“You mean Lazy?” 

Kuni gets a look on his face like he’s trying not to spit out something gross, and Geno rolls his eyes. “I’m not like _Nealer_ , Kuni. Stupid. Not silly feelings like that. Jesus, give me heart attack. Way you talk, whole team want—” He makes the appropriate sexual hand gestures, making Kuni groan a little and put his hand over his face. “—with Sid.” 

He’s not sure why that sounds like such a problem to him, and Kuni also looks confused. “I just wanted you to know you’re not alone, okay. It happens. It’s probably a phase.”

That also makes Geno think. Sidney goes through phases, too. Maybe the panties are a phase, like the red hat phase of early 2010. That hadn’t last very long, born of some streak of post-Olympic patriotism that thankfully hadn’t resurfaced after Sochi, and it had ended without much fuss. Maybe the panties thing will be like that, and when Sidney passes through this phase, Geno will pass with him.

He pointedly doesn’t think about how it’s been nine years, four theft-related meltdowns, countless pleading notes and yet the Crocs are still here. Geno doesn’t like to think about the Crocs if he can help it. 

“Thanks, Kuni,” Geno says, clapping him on the shoulder. Then he narrows his eyes. “Rookie ever come to you, tell you he’s gay, don’t tell him is phase. Not good to think.”

“Oh, of course,” Kuni says, waving a little. “It’s the gay for _Sid_ part that’s a phase. I don’t think anyone’s ever gay for Sid for that long. That ass hides a whole bunch.”

Geno hopes so. If that’s true, he can totally wait this thing out, weather the panties storm until Sidney moves on and he moves on and all is well and normal again. He can do it. If his ancestors could wait out the Battle of Stalingrad, Geno can handle this for the next little while. 

 

 

Geno handles it for a fairly long time, long enough that he’s not really all that ashamed when he snaps. He handles it through the discovery of Pittsburgh gold panties the day they debut the new thirds, peeking out of the top of Sidney’s sweats when he does some pregame stretches. He handles this by kicking the ball so hard in Two-Touch that it punctures against a light fixture, and everybody yells at him while he sulks and tries to suppress an erection. 

Geno thinks he mostly has things under control, really. He is taking the stoic approach. 

He handles it through the embarrassing losses to Philly and then to Detroit—Geno huffily wonders if Sidney had worn red panties and really fucked them—and his switch back to center. He’s okay through the Halloween party, mercifully panty-free (he’d been worried, remembering last year’s showing from Beau and Bort and praying that Sidney hadn’t taken any pointers). He jerks off a lot, tries to keep his head down and just score goals and follow the coach and not think about grabbing Sidney by the hips and pulling his pants down and bending him over and then doing all the filthy things that have been knocking around in his head for a few weeks. He really tries not to think about any of that. 

Then the Penguins score eight goals against the Devils, and Geno is totally fucked. 

He’s fucked because afterwards, most of the guys go out to celebrate immediately. Geno hangs back in the gym again, waving guys off. He has two Sidney goals to work off on the bike before he thinks he should be in public—and apparently it’s his luck that Sidney’s _hockey_ is now doing it for him. Sidney doesn’t even wear the stupid panties while he plays. 

His luck is even worse than he’d thought, because Sidney is the only one to hang back, and Geno can’t very well kick him out, though he tries valiantly. “Sick of you, Sid,” Geno says, hoping he’s hiding the desperation in his voice well. Sidney laughs, so either Geno’s succeeding or Sidney’s still too quick to laugh at Geno insulting him. “Always in my face. Go away.”

This is the first time he and Sidney have been alone in a room together since—maybe since that first day, with the jelly. Oh, how Geno regrets the jelly now. Eventually, once he gets his head on straight and stops needing to snap the jagged remains of broken sticks to release sexual frustration, he is going to have to do something to make Flower and Duper pay for that. 

“I’m gonna get a massage tomorrow,” Sidney says conversationally, like Geno needs that image on top of everything else. “But I’m gonna try to work this one out on my own for a bit. I know you don’t really mind.”

Geno minds. He really, really minds, and stops peddling on the bike to loudly complain. Sidney just laughs and laughs, turns his back on Geno, and bends to touch his toes. He is wearing yoga pants and they stretch thin across his ass; Geno can see the pattern of the lace beneath.

Geno throws himself off the bike and trips, barely getting his hands out in front of him to keep from smashing his face into the mat below him. Sidney straightens up and turns again, looking stricken when Geno points at him. 

“You! You do this on purpose!” 

“What?” Sidney asks, taking a few steps towards Geno. Geno staggers back, arms held out in front of him defensively. 

“You _know_ ,” Geno says, and it’s really the only explanation now. Sidney has to be fucking with him. This has to be some kind of epic prank that maybe Kuni was in on, and Duper and Flower. Maybe this goes all the way to the top and this is supposed to be a distraction from the Lazy trade. 

“I really don’t know,” Sidney says slowly, also holding his arms out, as if approaching a skittish deer. His eyes are very wide. “Are you okay? Did you pull something?”

“I know you know,” Geno spits out. Sidney just looks more and more alarmed. “You—you walk around here, you _tease_ , you make me think I’m crazy, think crazy things. You know I know about panties!” He sounds a bit hysterical, he realizes that now. The stoic approach has failed him but he’s never really been great at that, anyway. 

Now Sidney freezes. Geno doesn’t want to notice, wants to ignore it, but Sidney flushes red under the bright fluorescent lights and then bites his bottom lip. “Oh, geez.”

“Yes, I know secret, Sid. I know game you play. Fine, okay, you win, I’m surrender. I’m skate with—with Dana and Potash if you just _stop wearing panties._ ”

Sidney’s nose wrinkles, and he is quiet for a bit, clearly working things out in his head. He is still blushing. Geno is breathing kind of hard, sweating and not from the bike, and wants to both grab Sidney and punch a wall at the same time. He does neither, putting his hands on his hips and glaring. 

“I really don’t—” Sidney starts, then frowns and stops again. “Wait, okay. What’s the problem you have with the panties? And what do you think I’m doing?”

“Tease,” Geno snarls. Sidney studies him carefully, still frowning. He moves his gaze downwards a little and the frown drops with his jaw, his eyes going wide again.

“Oh, geez! Geno!” 

“See? Tease! Torture me for weeks!” Geno says, gesturing to the erection he knows he can do little to hide. It’s been there, determined and stubborn, for way too much of this conversation, but he’s riding high on too much cathartic indignation to worry about it right now. It’s helping him make his point, actually.

“This is so not fair,” Sidney groans, shaking his head. Geno’s about to give him an earful on _fair_ when Sidney adds, “You’re a grower, too? No fucking fair.”

“Sidney,” Geno says through gritted teeth. “Not about my dick right now. About you and your—”  
“I haven’t been teasing you!” Sidney yelps. “I didn’t even know you knew! Jesus Christ, it’s just a—a thing I’m trying, I didn’t want anyone to know, and it’s not a _sex_ thing! You’re crazy!”

“Yes, is whole point. You make me crazy.”

“I didn’t make you anything,” Sidney says, pointing at Geno’s dick for emphasis. “It’s your own fault if you—wait. You’re into that? You’re into guys?”

Now it’s Geno’s turn to point to his dick, and Sidney folds his arms across his chest and gives him a withering glare. “This is seriously how you’re choosing to come out to me right now?”

“Not about that! Is about—you—and you make—this all your fault!”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t start wearing panties for _you_! I told you, it’s not a sex thing!” He squints now, tilting his head to the side and looking thoughtful. “This is really hot to you? No, don’t—I _see_ your boner Geno, stop it. I just don’t get it.”

Geno feels the wind go out of his sails a bit, because Sidney looks genuinely confused, and he’s a legitimately terrible actor, in Geno’s experience. He’s only good at pranking people who don’t know him well enough, or know some bland, ironed-out version of him—all of his intentions tend to flash over his head in neon lights, and Geno doesn’t think this is an exception.

Which means that Geno just had a completely pointless meltdown in front of Sidney, and his shoulders slump. There’s something darkly fitting that this is how this is all winding down, because that’s exactly what Geno’s luck is like. And also he’d never have survived the Battle of Stalingrad.

“Yes, Sid,” Geno says tiredly, shaking his head. At least the boner’s flagging now that the humiliation is flowing freely. That’s a small comfort. “I think is hot, apparently. Surprise me too.”

Sidney looks down at his own hips, frowning again. “But—you haven’t even seen me in them, not really. And it’s not pretty, let me tell you. They’re always too small—I keep buying bigger but they ride up anyway. Some of them were too big and kept falling down and driving me crazy. And it just kind of—squishes stuff. Not that I have that much to squish compared to you, Jesus _Christ_ , G.”

Geno gives a dark sort of chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose. “In my head, still hot. Can’t explain it.”

“I’ll show you,” Sidney says. To Geno’s complete horror, his starts tugging down his pants, and Geno can only let out a solitary, gurgling protest before they’re dropped at his feet. “See? Nothing hot here. It’s just a new routine I’m trying.”

Sidney was right about some things. The black panties are tight against his hips, snug over his cock and keeping it lifted to the side. The lace is sheer but Geno could see the shape of everything anyway; the panties hide nothing, really. 

He was wrong about mostly everything, though, because it’s really hot, and Geno’s getting hard again. He swears and squeezes his thighs together and he means to shut his eyes, too, but instead he croaks out, “Turn around,” in a very creepy voice he’s sure will send Sidney running.

Initially, Sidney does look startled, but then he just wordlessly does as Geno told him, giving a small shrug and then turning in an awkward circle with his pants still around his ankles. Geno bites his fist. The panties hide _nothing_ of Sidney’s ass, really just strips of lace stretched across the pale expanse of it. They’ve ridden up, yes, thinning out into nothing between Sidney’s asscheeks. 

Sidney was so very, very wrong about it not being hot. “Okay,” Geno breathes out, feeling just the slightest bit lightheaded. He drops to the mat below him as Sidney pulls his pants up again, and sits on his hands. “Yes, I see all now. Still hot, sorry.”

“Really?” Sidney asks, turning and then putting his hands up again when Geno gives him a look. “Okay, fine, I believe you. Sorry? I really didn’t do it on purpose.”

Geno waves at him with one hand, dropping his forehead into his other. “Believe you. You right, my fault.”

Sidney pulls his pants up and then sits down on the mat, too. He scoots a little closer and stops when Geno flinches a bit; then he just sits there and looks at Geno thoughtfully until Geno wants to melt into the floor. 

He startles when he hears Sidney chuckling, shaking his head. “I really can’t believe this,” Sidney says, and puts a hand up when Geno starts to protest. “No, I just mean—nine years and this is how you make a pass at me? _This_ is what gets you?”

“Not make a pass at you,” Geno says. His face feels flaming hot, but he’s also a little annoyed—he’d done a lot of yelling for making a pass at Sid. If he was really trying get in Sidney’s pants, he wouldn’t yell so much, probably. That’s not really part of his traditional seduction technique. He likes to think he’s much smoother than that.

Sidney’s smiling, though, and he looks fond. He scoots closer, and Geno eyes him very warily. “I swear it’s not a sex thing,” Sidney says slowly. Geno scowls, because he’s heard that twice already, he doesn’t need another reminder that he’s a weirdo pervert while Sidney’s just a plain weirdo. “But, I guess—it kind of is now, right?”

He gestures at Geno, presumably at his dick. Then he scoots in a little farther, lifts up lightly on his knees, and Geno squeaks “What!” before he can stop himself.

Yes, he is usually much smoother than this. Right now he is an embarrassment to his nation and his gender and his profession.

Sidney answers him by clambering rather gracelessly onto Geno’s lap, making him swear up a storm and automatically bring his hands to grip Sidney’s hips. Sidney squirms in his hold, wriggling so his pants slip down a bit, and Geno has to fight the urge to pinch himself when he can feel lace beneath his fingertips.

“What,” Geno says again, croaking it out and staring up at Sidney’s flushed face. Sidney gives him a small smile and looks down between them. He rocks his hips a bit, small circles within the tight hold of Geno’s hands, and he puts his hands on Geno’s shoulders.

“We should take care of that,” Sidney says. His eyes go a little hazy, and Geno wonders if they’ve both gone insane, if maybe they were drugged after the game. “You could probably hurt someone just walking around with that thing, Jesus Christ—”

“What are you doing?” Geno demands as clearly as he can. “What is this? You say not a sex thing!”

“The panties weren’t,” Sidney says, just as clearly. His eyes flicker away from Geno’s, though, and he addresses his cheek when he continues. “But, uh. If I knew they could be? I’d probably have worn them here a lot sooner, let’s put it that way.”

Geno turns that over in his head. Then he does it again. Then he stares at Sidney with his mouth open, watching him turn redder and redder. “You—”

“Fuck’s sake, Geno, I’m making a pass at you!” Sidney basically yells, and Geno has to amend his earlier thoughts. Maybe he and Sidney just need some yelling to get things going. Maybe that’s why it’s taken nine years.

He doesn’t yell anymore. Instead he leans in to kiss Sidney a bit frantically. It’s totally gratifying when Sidney meets him halfway, kissing him roughly, and this might be Geno’s first off-ice triumph of the night, maybe the whole month.

He’s been thinking about Sidney a lot lately, oftentimes while jerking off, and yet this hadn’t really been part of his fantasies. Sidney kisses with pointed, careful precision, like he’s pouring all of his attention into it, and Geno feels like he’s glowing under it, his blood fizzing. Sidney’s mouth is hot and plush when Geno slips his tongue in, and not for the first time tonight, Geno realizes he’s an idiot, because he should’ve been fantasizing about this the _entire_ time. This is awesome. 

Then his fingers slip against Sidney’s hips, catching on the lace, and Geno groans. His own hips jerk up and Sidney jumps a little, rearing back. He grins, small and crooked, and Geno groans again, chasing his mouth, squeezing the thickest parts of his hips. 

Sidney grinds down against Geno in a slow but vicious motion. “Fuck, that feels good,” he sighs, and Geno stares at him, brain blanked out with white heat and arousal. He keeps grinding, and Geno hears himself make a wounded, strangled noise. He smashes his mouth against Sidney’s again and muffles the noise against his lips, getting in as much kissing as he can because he’s pretty terrified he’s going to wake up from a dream any minute now.

“Wait,” Sidney says suddenly, stopping and pulling back. There it is, Geno thinks, feeling his stomach sink. Reality is here to punch him in the dick. “We’re in the—this is the training room.”

Geno blinks and looks around. He thinks they could be on the moon right now and he wouldn’t know the difference, because Sidney is warm and heavy and solid on top of him, Geno’s gripping him so hard he thinks the lace of his panties is leaving a pattern in his skin, and even if this is a dream, it’s absolutely the best one he’s ever had.

“Wait,” Sidney says again, and he wriggles out of Geno’s grasp and starts to stand up. His face goes soft when Geno snarls out a rather plaintive “ _No_ ,” and then wants to slap himself in the mouth.

“Just hold on a sec, I’m gonna make sure no one’s—it’s okay, G.”

It’s not okay, and Geno is about to say so when he sees that Sidney’s hard, adjusting himself carefully before heading over to the big double doors and studying them. It’s only really occurring to Geno now that anyone with a key card or the code could walk right in, so that means basically anyone still in the building, and that should be horrifying. Instead it only feels annoying, because it’s an inconvenience, a force drawing Sidney away from his lap.

As if sharing this sentiment, Sidney just lets out a huff, grabs a spare hockey stick, and jams it through the two door handles. “There,” he says, eyeing his handiwork for a second with his hands on his hips. Geno watches as he adjusts himself again, cupping his dick and making a face, and then he starts pulling down his pants, yanking them away with his socks and leaving them in a trail back to Geno.

He starts tugging on the panties, too, and Geno says “No!” again. Sidney wrinkles his nose at him; the head of his dick is poking out of the top of the waistband and Geno can’t stop staring at it, his mouth hanging open. It takes actual mental effort to make sure his tongue isn’t hanging out. Geno thinks if he turned over onto his front, he’d drill a hole through the mat and the floor below. He drops onto his back instead, still staring up at Sidney. “Please. Leave on.”

“It doesn’t feel great,” Sidney grumps, but he takes his fingers out of the waistband and starts to drop down again. “And come on, you’ve gotta give to get, take those off.”

Geno pulls his own pants off and throws them somewhere just as Sidney straddles him again. He takes his shirt off and throws that too, making Sidney laugh a little and lean in, mumbling, “You’re gonna have to find that before we leave, not gonna leave a mess in here,” and Geno ignores that.

“I’m make you feel great,” Geno says, hoping that comes off smooth and confident instead of eager. He spreads his hands around Sidney’s hips again, reaches back to palm his ass, and Sidney shudders all over and leans all the way down to kiss him. He bites Geno’s lip and tries to press his cock against his stomach, rocking on Geno’s as he goes. 

He groans a bit when he seems to fall into a rhythm he likes, the sound soft against Geno’s mouth. Geno kisses him back and tries not to twitch with wanting to push Sidney up so he can watch him. He can feel the strong muscles flexing in Sidney’s huge thighs as he moves, strokes them carefully with his palms, and Sidney sighs and kisses his chin. He leans up again, planting one hand on Geno’s chest and then putting his hand on his dick through the panties, his brow drawn.

“Fuck, Geno, this is killing me,” and Geno snarls back at him.

“ _You_ killing me.” He rocks his own hips until his cock is slotted under Sidney’s ass, and Sidney’s eyes widen. He head tilts back and he rubs himself hard, his face pinching again in frustration.

Geno sees it, knows what the constriction must feel like, and it’s making his own cock leak. He reaches all the way back around Sidney’s ass and inches his fingers towards the crease, just rubbing there at first. Sidney groans and then groans louder when Geno slips his fingers under the strip of lace there, pulling it away. Sidney rubs his cock frantically and then looks down at Geno’s.

“Come on,” he says, his voice a little broken. He spits in one palm and pulls on Geno until he can stroke him comfortably, his hand making quick, precise strokes in a perfect rhythm. “ _Hurry_ ,” he says when Geno keeps his fingers where they are, tugging on Sidney’s panties, letting them snap back into place and then plucking them up again. Sidney’s sweating and still red and a little frantic now, working Geno’s cock in stuttering movements, his hips shaking. 

“You like this,” Geno murmurs, his breathing gone fast and shallow. Sidney nods, then narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb over the wet head of Geno’s cock.

“I think you like it more. Come on, I need to get these off, please.” He sounds desperate, and Geno’s breath catches in response, his heart beating wildly. 

He fucks up into Sidney’s hand, chasing the feeling building in his gut, groaning harshly when Sidney adds another hand and works him faster. He comes on an upward thrust, his back arching against the mat, spurting into Sidney’s hands and on his own chest.

Sidney gasps, and Geno thinks he whimpers, too, which makes Geno shake and drop back down weakly. He can feel Sidney shifting around restlessly, tense under Geno’s now slackened hands, clearly pausing to let Geno come down, but all too soon his voice comes impatient and a little whiny, leaning forward. 

“I’m gonna—Geno, I have to get them off, I can’t—”

“Come in them,” Geno says thickly, and Sidney whimpers again, Geno’s sure of it that time. He grabs Sidney’s cock and squeezes it, rubbing over the wet head, making Sidney shake. “Look so good, Sid, you can.”

“Fuck,” Sidney says, his head dropping back and his mouth opening in pants. He’s rocking his hips again, grinding his cock into Geno’s hand as best he can, and then he moans and jerks a little when it’s apparently not enough. “Okay, at least let me—”

Geno gets it quickly and pulls Sidney down against him. His spent cock twitches as Sidney starts rutting against his thigh, whimpering low in his throat and gripping Geno’s shoulders so hard Geno’s sure he’ll leave bruises. “So good,” Geno says again, and he helps by putting his hands on Sidney’s ass and _pushing_. Then he tugs on the lace between Sidney’s asscheeks again and Sidney shouts, surprising them both.

He can’t see much, but Geno’s satisfied he’s seen enough for months of jerkoff material, and he can be totally confident in telling Sidney, “You look so fucking hot, fuck, drive me crazy, never take these off,” and Sidney moves like he wants to kiss his mouth and lands on his neck instead, pumping his hips wildly. Geno takes it as a cue to keep talking, keep telling Sidney exactly how hot he looks, and it isn’t very long after that until he feels sticky warmth between them and Sidney’s hips stutter and stop.

Geno wedges his hand into the nonexistent space between their bodies and rubs at Sidney’s cock again, rubbing the come there into the lace of the panties. He wraps his other arm around Sidney’s shoulders when he groans softly. 

After a while, Sidney picks his head up slowly while the rest of his body seems to sag into Geno, heavy and boneless. Geno fucking loves the feeling, and loves it more when Sidney kisses him sloppily on the mouth. He rubs Sidney’s back and kisses him eagerly until Sidney sighs and starts shifting away, rolling onto his back like Geno and lying with his head on Geno’s belly. He sighs again, and Geno strokes his hair without really thinking about it.

Soon, Sidney gives a grumpy-sounding huff and starts squirming around. “I’m taking them off now,” he announces, and though Geno gives a soft, mournful noise of protest, he feels a bit better about things when the panties hit him in the face. 

“For me?” Geno asks, grabbing them and studying them in one hand. They’re warm and a little sticky, and he decides right then that Sidney’s not getting them back unless it’s to put them on again in front of him. 

Sidney snorts, and Geno feels him shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy. I think they cut off all the feeling below my waist. Scratched because panties, lower body, day-to-day, right?”

“Was plan all along,” Geno says. He scratches at Sidney’s scalp a little and smiles when Sidney presses into it. “Now I’m first line center. You walk right into my evil plan, thank you Sid.”

“You’re welcome,” Sidney says, his voice shaking with laughter. “That makes more sense than whatever the hell you were yelling about before, my evil panty tease plan or something.”

“You tease me so much,” Geno tells him accusingly. “What I’m supposed to think?” It all sounds ridiculous now, but Geno’s pretty happy he did all that yelling. It wasn’t smooth, but he’s satisfied with the results. He can be smoother next time, and as the thought crosses his mind, Geno flushes a bit and glances uncertainly down at the top of Sidney’s head. He wants to ask about next time.

But Sidney says, “I’m not that diabolical, Geno! And I’m not a tease.”

“You are a tease,” Geno has to say, grinning when Sidney tilts his head all the way up to glare at him upside down. “Why else you start wear panties now, so sudden?”

“I told you, if I’d known you liked it, I wouldn’t tease,” Sidney tells him, looking cross, but Geno just keeps looking at him until he rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Okay, don’t tell anyone this.”

“Of course,” Geno says. The thought makes his lips purse unhappily. 

“When I was younger, in junior, we had to do a hazing thing. I mean, we did a few things. One of them was that we had to wear panties under our suits before and after games.”

Geno turns that over in his head. Then he considers how difficult it would be to bash his head against the mat until he stops thinking about a teenaged Sid in panties. Probably pretty difficult. He would probably have to get up and use the wall instead.

Sidney doesn’t help matters by continuing. “It was only for a little while, though. We were allowed to stop after two weeks. But I—I had had a _really_ good two weeks.”

He knows where this is going now, and he knows where he’s going: straight to hell. 

“So I kept wearing them. And they were really lucky! I got away with it for a few months. But then, you know, one of my teammates saw me wearing them and he told everybody and they all thought it was weird. Obviously. It was kind of—it wasn’t great. So I stopped wearing them, and then I was too scared to ever try it again.”

“Until now,” Geno croaks, his head spinning. He wants to pull Sidney up and squeeze him tight, and settles for stroking his hair again. Sidney shifts and reaches up to take Geno’s hand, holding it above his head.

“Yeah. I figured, with all the changes this year, we could use the extra luck. I thought about it last year, when everyone was getting injured, but I didn’t think I could risk it at the Olympics, too. Not that Webs would care, but who knows—”

“Glad you do this year,” Geno says through gritted teeth. He squeezes Sidney’s hand very tight, and Sidney looks up and smiles at him.

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

 

Geno goes out with the team after they lose and then win a shootout against the Rangers. He puts away a burger the size of his face, cheerfully shares onion rings with Horny, and listens to everybody laughingly tell the story to each other again and again, as if they hadn’t all just experienced it together. 

They’re working on a lengthy drink tab when Sidney gets up and presumably goes to the bathroom. Geno watches him go, notices Kuni watching him watch Sid go, and tips his pint at Kuni in acknowledgment. Kuni had given good advice. He’d been wrong and Geno is glad for it, but he is also grateful. 

Sidney comes back in a few minutes. He squeezes in at the end of Geno’s side of the booth, where there is no room and everybody is forced to shuffle to accommodate him, and he is pressed up against Geno’s side, warm and solid. Geno grumbles at him, complains about his fat ass, and then accidentally knees the table when he feels Sidney shove his fist into the pocket of his jacket. 

He pulls the fist out, steals some of the cold fries still lingering on Geno’s plate, and appears to be listening to a conversation between Tanger and Olli. When Geno glances at him sideways, he looks positively angelic, wide-eyed and earnest. Geno grits his teeth and, very slowly and carefully, slips his own hand into the pocket of his jacket to confirm his suspicions.

His fingers quickly close around a rolled-up ball of lace. Geno feels himself go very hot, then glares senselessly at the table below him until he can manage a straighter face. Sidney keeps helping himself to fries, nodding along to whatever Tanger’s saying. Geno’s going to kill him.

It takes him a little bit to plan his next move. He doesn’t take his hand out of his pocket, squeezing the fabric in his fingers. Sidney next steals a sip of Geno’s beer, giving him a small smile and tilting his head, as if to include him in the conversation. Geno glares back at him.

“Tease,” he grunts under his breath. Sidney’s smile widens and he leans in very close.

“Not a tease if you know I’m good for it,” he whispers. Geno grunts again and wonders when he’s ever going to get the chance to be smooth, dammit. Right now he feels like he’s going to fly apart. 

Sidney tortures him for another 20 minutes or so, polishing off the rest of Geno’s fries and beer, asking Olli to repeat a story he’d told while he was in the bathroom. He stays close to Geno, pressed against his side, and eventually Geno just starts shoving at him to get out of the booth. 

“Want to go now,” Geno says, ignoring Horny’s protests in his other ear. 

“Hey, no,” Sidney says. His lips have salt on them, his eyes bright from a few beers. Geno wants to throw him over the table. “It’s early, come on.”

“Sidney.” 

“Fine,” Sidney sighs, shaking his head and standing up to let Geno out. “Sure, leave us with the bill.”

“You deserve,” Geno says fiercely. He gives everyone else a rather gruff goodbye and leaves, needing to make a concerted effort not to trip over his own feet. He drives home with a boner and wishes that wasn’t becoming a trend this season.

If there’s one thing he’s certain of, it’s that Sidney will follow him home. Geno _does_ know he’s good for it. They’ve hooked up a few times since that first night in the gym, and Sidney keeps his word for this kind of stuff. It’s been really good, actually.

He’s not sure how long Sidney’s going to make him wait, and when it turns out to be a little while, Geno grumpily takes matters into his own hands and starts undressing. He turns the covers down but doesn’t pull them up over him, instead lying naked and spread out in bed with the panties gripped tight in the hand he starts jerking himself with. Sidney deserves that, too. 

Sidney arrives and immediately starts swearing, eyes widening as he pads into Geno’s bedroom. “Holy shit, Geno. Look at you.” He has his belt undone and his dress pants unzipped, barely hanging onto his hips, and when he drops them to the floor it’s to show Geno he’s bare underneath, cock thickening against his thigh.

Geno gives himself a few more pointed tugs and then sits up a little, looking accusingly at Sidney as he strips his shirt off. “Why else you give me if I’m not supposed to use?” Geno asks with a slight pout, and Sidney shrugs. He looks a little dazed, staring at Geno’s cock and licking his lips, and it takes him a bit to respond.

“I just thought it’d be funny, is all. And I thought you’d wait for me. Do you think you can still fuck me?”

Geno scoffs, insulted. He yanks Sidney onto the bed and kisses him roughly, arranging him to stretch out next to him. “Of course can fuck you. Stupid question.”

“Okay,” Sidney says, a bit dopey. He blinks a lot when they break away, then grins. “Let’s get to it, then.”

He starts hunting around for where Geno keeps the lube and the condoms, not entirely used to Geno’s bedroom yet because they do this at Sidney’s house a lot. Geno kind of wants him to get used to it, and doesn’t like to poke at that desire too much because it’s probably too soon to think that way. 

Geno stops him with the hand that’s still holding the panties, the Pittsburgh gold pair, because they’d worn the thirds tonight. He gives him a grave look. “Have a problem.”

Sidney frowns at him. “Oh. What?” 

“I’m hold panties, means you not wear them.” Sidney’s mouth starts to set in a stubborn line and Geno rushes to say his piece before Sidney can start arguing. “Sid, please. Been a while.”

They’ve hooked up panty-free a few times now. Geno had the feeling that the first time was a test he’d apparently passed with flying colors; he’d been enthusiastic and thorough in proving he wanted Sidney any which way. But he still thinks about the panties all the time. He thinks of them as a sex thing even when sex isn’t involved, or when they’re not involving the panties in their sex. He definitely has a thing for Sid, a thing for panties, and a thing for Sid in panties, and he’s no longer really ashamed about any of it. 

He screws on his most pleading, hangdog look, and Sidney sighs. “You really want me in them?” he asks. Geno nods vigorously. 

“Yes, of course I want. Look so hot for me. Please?”

“I still don’t get it,” Sidney says, but he dutifully takes the panties from Geno and stands up. “They don’t even fit.”

“I’m measure you, take you shopping,” Geno murmurs in a haze, watching Sidney step into the panties and pull them up his legs. They settle on his hips and Sidney fusses with the back for a moment, grumbling under his breath, though he has gone very red. His eyes are bright. Geno thinks he likes that idea. “Gonna fuck you in panties.”

“Fuck,” Sidney moans, rejoining Geno on the bed. “Why is that hot?”

“Maybe fuck in mirror, show you what I see?” Geno says, drawing Sidney close. He feels him starting to shake a little, feels him shake his head and kiss Geno with some desperation, leaving his forehead pressed against Geno’s when they break the kiss. 

“Just fuck me,” Sidney tells him, his voice a bit small. Geno nods and wrap his arms around him, squeezing him tight. 

He doesn’t bring up the mirror again but he tells Sidney what he sees, how good he looks, as he pushes the panties aside to finger Sidney open and then gets him on his hands and knees on the bed. Geno has to grab his cock, has to steady himself at the sight of Sidney spread before him, the gold bright on his pale skin and stretched thin across his ass. 

“Beautiful,” Geno tells Sidney, meaning it heartily. Sidney groans softly, his head bowing and his hips shifting restlessly. 

He looks looking his fill as he carefully fucks Sidney, watching as he shakes harder and harder, clenching his hands on the sheets beneath and rocking back into Geno’s thrusts. Geno goes slow because Sidney’s still getting used to his cock, is eager and enthusiastic in taking it but had also approached the concept practically, eyeing it the first time they’d fucked with a mix of trepidation and excitement. 

As a result, they go slow every time, and Geno fucking loves it. He’s reasonably sure Sidney loves it too, and his soft moans confirm that. After a while he starts squirming, his breath coming short, and Geno tears his eyes away from staring at the place where they connect, the thin strip of lace he’s hooked his fingers into. He looks at the bend of Sidney’s neck, the tremors in his arms, and reaches around for his cock.

Sidney blurts out, “Please,” rather quickly, and Geno takes pity on him, pushing the panties down in the front only and letting Sidney’s cock spring free. Sidney moans loudly in relief, and Geno thinks he might actually whisper “Thanks,” which is enough to make his orgasm start to build up, tightening up his balls.

Geno rubs at Sidney’s balls to soothe them, bouncing gently with every one of Geno’s thrusts. He fucks into Sidney a little harder, pushing just a bit, and Sidney moans again and starts to come in Geno’s hand, pressing back on his cock and taking it deeper than Geno had been willing to go. It’s enough for Geno to tumble over too, groaning harshly and pressing himself all along Sidney’s back, mouthing at the knobs of his spine until he finishes. 

He pulls out as carefully as he’d fucked into Sidney, kissing his back and letting go of the panties slowly so they fall back into place. Geno dumps the condom, gently urges Sidney to lie on his stomach, then slowly tugs the panties off for him, making him sigh out softly. He drops the panties over the side of the bed and notes where they’d landed on the floor, just for himself. 

“Thanks,” Sidney says again. He rolls onto his side and Geno starts sliding up Sidney’s body to join him, pausing at the crease of his thighs where elastic has pulled some red lines into the skin. He kisses there, each side, and then slides up to be eye-level with Sidney, kissing him gently on the mouth.

Sidney kisses him back, and when they pull away, he just smiles at Geno for a little while, until Geno is smiling back, feeling goofy and warm.

“That was really good,” Sidney tells him. He always says something like that, like he’s giving Geno a performance review, and Geno can’t help glowing under the praise, preening a little. He likes to know he does it for Sidney, too. Sidney has dropped hints of being into Geno for longer than the panties thing, maybe a long time, but he gets embarrassed about it, and Geno doesn’t really care about how long ago they could’ve been doing this. He’s just happy they’re doing it now.

“ _Really_ good,” Geno agrees. He presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> There's non-explicit mention of underage crossdressing, and an older guy thinking about it, just an FYI.


End file.
